Sad Song in His Heart
by Emmie G
Summary: What was Spike really thinking and feeling when he met up with Harmony in the bar at the end of Harm's Way? And why is it about to get him in a serious amount of trouble? Spoilers for Harm's Way and the Season 8 retcon of The Girl in Question.
1. Chapter 1

_Had a bad day again  
She said I would not understand _

_- Fuel_

The bar was nicer than the dives and hellholes Spike normally chose for drinking himself into a stupor. 'Course, demon bars weren't known for their exacting standards. Probably why this bar was so swank. Mostly humans inside drowning their sorrows or chasing tail. He was pretty sure some were doing both. More power to 'em.

What'd it say about him that he'd chosen a human bar near Wolfram &Hart instead of scrounging for a demon bar where he could mingle and brawl amongst his own kind?

A flash of blonde hair caught his eye and he tensed unconsciously. No, it wasn't her. Though technically the piece of fluff at the bar also qualified as an ex, the two blondes were leagues apart in his mind and heart. He huffed an unnecessary breath and ambled towards the chatterbox gabbing at the bartender. Looked like he'd managed to find a bar that catered to his kind after all.

"So I save the summit by killing the skank who tried to frame me, and all I get is, 'get me some coffee.' You believe that?" Harmony pouted before shaking her head and giving a smile armed to charm and disarm. "Oh, hey, can I get another, but with one of those little umbrellas?"

Spike smirked at Harmony's chipper voice complaining about her day. The office gossip had traveled so quickly it'd caught him on his way out the door. Out the door, out of town and out of the country. Across the pond. Taking that big leap. Leap of faith and all that jazz. Right.

Except he'd never quite made it.

Ah, well. Plans change. He might as well get sauced with his blond ditz of an ex. Not like he had anything better to do. Sitting down next to Harmony, he eyed the liquor bottles and wondered if Harmony might put up the dosh for the drink he'd just ordered. His funds were depressingly low until he was able to fence some of the knickknacks he'd swiped from Angel's penthouse.

Was stealing from an evil corporation still considered a sin? Couldn't be. He was practically Robin Hoodwinking Wolfram & Hart out of their ill-gotten gains. He deserved a medal for chipping away at that fortress of evil. The fact that he was also sticking it to Angel was just a bonus and in no way should detract from his ultimately good deed.

"Yeah, life's an ever-lovin' bitch, isn't it?"

Commiserating with Harm was easy. Compliment her outfit, stroke her ego, put on the active listening façade, rinse and repeat. Whatever faults the girl may have – annoying, clingy, not the brightest bulb – right now she was a welcome distraction. Her talent for inspiring aggravation and her tendency to swim in the shallow end of the pool of life were sure to keep his mind off other… things.

"What are you doing here?" Harmony sounded surprised.

"At the moment, hearing a bit of your story of woe." First step, keep the conversation on her. Once she took the bait, she'd natter on for hours and he could let the easy rhythm of her rah-rah spirit numb him down.

"But...what happened to Europe? Aren't you supposed to be slayer-chasing or something?"

Well, damn. How'd he forget her other talent? The one where she always picked at the last thing he wanted to talk about. Girl was like a dog with a bone when she decided she wanted an answer, too. "I was on my way. Had a boat ticket and all. Then I put a little thinking into it. A man can't go out in a bloody blaze of glory, savin' the world, and then show up 3 months later, tumbling off a cruise ship in the south of France. I mean, I'd love to, don't get me wrong, but, uh, it's hard to top an exit like that."

There. That sounded convincing.

Harmony rolled her eyes. "Come on. Girls don't care about stuff like that. Just one look at you, and she'll forget herself, and she'll get all tingly, and it won't matter how horribly you treated her in the past and how you took her for granted, and..."

Okay, maybe not so convincing. And hey…"I never took her for gr – Oh." He paused and looked at Harmony significantly, an unspoken apology quickly veiled. "I expect Buffy would be happy enough to see me." Sure, she'd be happy to see him. Though definitely not enough. The thought of her smiling at his miraculous return was quickly followed by her nonchalantly sending him on his merry way. "It's just, I gave up my life for her, the world, and if I show up now, flesh and bone, my grand finale won't hold much weight. All of it... won't matter." Going out in a blaze of glory was all he had to hold onto. She'd needed him to be her champion and he'd delivered. Glory and sod all else was all that was keeping him going. Not like he had anything more to hang his hat on. Not like she'd ever really lo –

"Yeah, not mattering." Harmony sighed. "I know that feeling well."

Oh, balls. Now his despondent mood was infecting those near and almost dear to him. Grasping mentally at straws, he tried to look encouraging. "Oh, come on, Harm, you matter to someone." Odds were that was true. Yeah, everybody mattered to somebody. He was sure that was true. Even when a person didn't matter to the one person who mattered the most, there was still someone out there who cared. Somewhere. Somehow.

"I do?" Harmony looked hopeful and slightly disbelieving.

He knew that feeling, the desperation to believe something too good to be true and the wrenching pain when forced to admit that the shine was masking dross as gold. Hell, he wasn't going to be the one to spoil it for Harm. Maybe she wouldn't realize it was a lie, maybe she wasn't quite sharp enough to pull back the well-intentioned veil of deceit, maybe it wouldn't be a lie for her. Besides, wasn't believing the impossible dream better than this bleak reality? Girl deserved some hope. She'd had a rough day. "Yeah. Girl tried to frame you, didn't she? Must have mattered to her. Everybody's talking about it."

Harmony sat back, surprised. Her face slowly lit up with joyous realization. "You're right. That girl hated me. She wanted me dead. I matter."

Spike nodded and raised his glass to toast her, satisfied with a job well done. It's good she believed she mattered.

At least one of them did.

******

The hours passed in a drunken haze. Harmony had long since toddled off upon seeing a likely bloke smile her way. Girl would never learn, but at least the odds of her being framed for murder were close to nil for the evening. And giving credit where credit's due, she had solved her problem all on her own. No rescue needed. Maybe there was hope for her yet.

Spike scowled at his empty shot glass and reached blindly for the bottle of Scotch resting on the bar. Desperate for a drink after Harmony had ditched him and their unpaid tab, he'd managed to convince the bartender that he was an esteemed guest of the terrifying and all-powerful CEO of Wolfram & Hart. The liquor had flowed freely ever since. Good to know the Great Poofter still had his uses. Like helping Spike get stupid drunk, for one.

A heady perfume wafted towards him and he was struck dumb by the scent – a pleasant mixture of flowers, soap and something earthy and old. Old as in powerful. And something else, something underneath the other aromas that smelled familiar. He turned his head slightly without looking and breathed in deeply, peeling back the layers as he isolated the familiar tang.

Buffy. No, it couldn't be.

Spike whipped his head to the right and encountered a pair of eyes so dark they appeared black looking at him curiously. The woman was striking, raven tresses falling straight down her back, red lips contrasting her porcelain skin. Beautiful and not what he was looking for. He shook his head, looking beyond the mystery woman to search the room. No, not here. He could have sworn…

Hell, he'd dodged a bullet. Last thing he needed was a gentle letdown, the final stab to his heart. He was already walking wounded here, didn't need Buffy to show up and kick his legs out from under him. He could hear her voice in his head, at first putting him off reluctantly – _does it have to mean something? _– till she gave in and set him straight – _it would never be you, Spike _– before finally putting him in his place – _you're beneath me_ – and moving on with her day.

_I love you. _

God, why did she say that? Was she trying to torment him? He knew it wasn't true. For all the times she'd been brutal, beat him down, tore away his every defense, she'd never been truly cruel till she'd told him that. 'Course she didn't mean it. He was dying, for Christ's sake. A pity 'I love you' was miles worse than a pity fuck. At least the pity fuck didn't gut you every time you thought about it.

Why'd she say it? Why couldn't it have been true? Why couldn't he have stayed dead or at least been resurrected with a convenient amnesia package that wiped away all the past aches and pains?

Spike hunched forward, his face buried in his upraised hands as he stared through splayed fingers at the oak bartop. A faint humming started to vibrate the air around him and he blinked. Mission accomplished – he was drunk. He dropped a hand to swipe at the spinning waves of air and looked up suspiciously when the humming morphed into a lyrical singsong rhythm. A song that was coming from the lady to his right.

Turning slowly in his drunken stupor, he glanced down at her thigh and noted the expensive cut of the red sheath dress she was wearing. Lady in red. Huh. He'd always liked red. The humming continued as his eyes traveled up over the gentle curve of her hips, her slim waist and voluptuous breasts. Right, beautiful lady in red. He'd forgotten about her completely.

What was she singing about?

Spike blinked erratically, trying to clear his eyes as he stared dumbly at her bright red lips pulled back into a delighted grin. Something a bit off about that. Like she was laughing at him as she hummed her little ditty through her teeth.

"What…what you singing about, love?" Spike slurred, squinting at the woman.

She leaned in closer and he closed his eyes as that perfume inflamed his senses again. Her lips brushed up against his ear and the humming slowly became words sung over and over – _a dream is a wish your heart makes a dream is a wish your heart makes a dream is a wish your heart makes_ – till he jerked back as a chill attacked his spine. The humming continued to surround him but he could no longer hear the words without her mouth pressed up against his ear.

"What are you on about?" he demanded belligerently, raising his eyes to glare at her.

"Making your wish come true," the woman purred, eyes now gleaming red with streaks of silver circling through the flaming color of her irises.

Spike tensed, leaning away from her as she surged towards him. "Pfft, never made no wish," he denied vehemently.

Her hand snaked forward to touch his chest and she grinned triumphantly. "Oh, you did. You did. I heard you. I heard your heart make a wish." She licked her lips, devouring him with hungry eyes as she slowly savored the moment. "Wish_ granted_."


	2. Chapter 2

Buffy awoke with a jolt, groaning when she felt cold stone digging into her lower back. Since when did her queen-size bed complete with 700 thread count sheets feel like she was sleeping on the floor? She fumbled in the darkness, reaching out blindly for the lamp on the nightstand and smacked her palm into dust and pebbles scattering the rocky surface where her wood furniture should be. Huh?

Her eyes opened to near-pitch black darkness and she frantically reached to touch the ground beneath her. Oh god, where was she? Okay, stay calm. Don't panic. Panicking is bad. Very bad. Slowing her racing heart with practiced deep breaths learned from hours of meditiation – thanks, Giles – she listened to the silent echo of air as it escaped her chest. Her eyes adjusted to the limited light and she realized that it was emanating in a wide circle around her. Turning on her side, she crawled towards the perimeter of light, searching for purchase on the stone floor with her hands.

Sitting up on her knees, her fingers inched forward, fanning out to touch the light hesitantly. Okay, she didn't spontaneously combust. Good so far. She dropped her hand down to pull herself further into the light, but found nothing to hold onto and fell onto her face. Oomph. Spitting out dust and wiping her chin, she panted. Okay, where'd the floor go? Patting the ground, she inched forward till she found the edge of the stone as it dropped off where the light began. Curling her fingers around the stone's edge, she dropped onto her stomach with legs outstretched to anchor her, pulling herself towards the light and slowly peeking down over the rim.

Gasping in shock, she jerked back and closed her eyes. Fire. She was surrounded by fire down below. Only fire and nothing else. Oh god, was this hell? Bracing herself and stiffening her spine, she sat up on her haunches and looked around at the perimeter of light illuminating the edge of the stone circle she was trapped on. She looked up, looked left, looked right and saw only darkness broken by the faint orange and yellow waves of light rising from below.

A spotlight suddenly blazed down onto another stone tower 20 yards in front of her and she saw the unmistakable outline of platinum blonde hair and a black leather coat. Spike. She eyed the abyss separating them and wondered how she could get enough momentum to reach him. Shaking her head at the impossibility, her shoulders drooped. Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes suddenly wet in the corners while impossibly dry in the center as her eyelids strained wide open.

Yes, she was in hell. Because that's where he was. But how? And why now? It'd been almost eight months since he'd died in the Hellmouth. Eight months of not saying his name aloud since no one wanted to hear it but her, of crying into her pillow at night because it muffled her sobs and she wasn't allowed to be weak in front of her army of slayers, of despairing she'd lost touch with her heart when she couldn't cry anymore but still felt the gaping wound inside.

And then with crystal clarity, she knew what she was meant to do. Spike was alive here. Or whatever passed for existing in hell. And she'd been brought here to save him. He'd saved the world for her. Now it was her turn to bring him back. She smiled brokenly, eyes fresh with unshed tears. She would save him. Whatever rules applied in this dimension, she'd break all of them to set him free.

It was time for him to come home.

******

Buffy booted up with an electric jolt, sensors processing the temperature of the air and the CO2 to O2 ratio, analyzing the mixture of minerals that made up the surface she lay prone on. She scanned the last known data of her memory banks before having gone into hibernation mode and confirmed that her hibernation mode locale had been the NW corner bedroom of 1631 Revello Drive – October 1, 2001. Error. System dump of corrupted information in 3 – 2 – 1. Reboot to last known restore point of optimum performance.

1630 Revello Drive. Data confirmed with historical entry logs. Scanning for anomalies. Flag – software update imperative. Source of installation unknown. Manual system override. Installing now – memory log updates for October 2, 2001 – January 14, 2003 confirmed. Installing supplementary behavioral software – "Emoting Instructions Manual", "101 Ways to Please Your Man", "101 Ways to Express Your Love", "Complete Buffy Syntax/Vocabulary/Grammar Key", "How to Pun Like a Post-Modern Shakespeare" and "101 Spike Compliments Sure to Please". Installation complete. General systems check.

Name: Buffy Anne Summers

Occupation: Slayer, Spike's girlfriend.

Error. Adjusting priority level functions. Modifications complete.

Occupation: Spike's girlfriend, Slayer.

Primary Objective: Direct Spike to target his love at Buffy X013e37-A.

Sensory input notification – unidentified light source 18.288 meters NNW from present axis point. Visual scan – identity confirmed as Spike aka William the Bloody aka Sex God aka boyfriend. Primary Objective engaged.

******

Buffy woke up with a jolt, startled by the unfamiliarity of her surroundings. She'd fallen asleep in her penthouse in Rome, exhausted from a night of dancing and being wooed by a certain dark and swarthy Italian. Groaning at the stiffness of her limbs, she sat up slowly and squinted in hopes of seeing something in the surrounding dark.

"Hello?" she called out. "Anybody here?"

No one answered. Where was she? Oh my god, she'd been kidnapped! She shivered as she remembered the scene from _Silence of the Lambs_ with the lotion and the bucket and the rubbing and the hose. She was gonna die. Oh god, she was gonna die. She did _not_ sign up for this shit. Andrew so hadn't mentioned death-by-stalker-kidnapper when he'd read her the brochure.

Wait a sec. Breathe. She had Slayer strength now. No way some creepy ass psycho could take her when she was super strong and had instant kungfu skills. Okay, so maybe she hadn't been training as much as the other new slayers who'd been called along with her in the past eight months, but that didn't mean she couldn't throw a punch without going all weak-wristed. Well okay, sometimes she jabbed with a limp wrist. But she'd heard even the real Buffy had done that for years after being called to protect the Hellmouth.

She smacked her forehead. No, doofus. She _was_ Buffy. She even looked exactly like Buffy thanks to Andrew's wicca voodoo. She was Buffy. She couldn't forget or she'd slip up accidentally and blow her cover. Okay, right. She was Buffy. So what would Buffy do in this situation?

Buffy would _totally_ kick ass. She bit her lip, looking around the darkness uncertainly. Erm, except she was alone so there wasn't any ass to kick. Well, she was sure that Buffy would be _ready_ to totally kick ass then. And she'd have a quip too. Yeah, maybe she should work on the quipping while she waited for the demons to attack.

Brushing off her jeans as she stood up, she wondered how she was fully dressed now when she'd went to bed in silky satin pajamas. Okay, not like that was important. At least she had clothes on. That was a definite plus.

But back to business. Quippage. Quippiness. Quips-a-hoy. Oh shoot, she had nothing. Epic fail, Buffy. She was finally put to the test and she couldn't even come up with a good one-liner.

A light shone down on another rocky surface off in the distance and she tilted her head bemusedly when it lit upon a head of bleached white hair and a black leather coat that screamed emo-wannabe. This was what she had to face? Please. Talk about not even breaking a sweat.

"Hey, Bleached Biker Bozo!" she yelled, gyrating her head defiantly, waving him towards her with a cocky 'come and get me' gesture. "Get ready to learn what it means to face the Slayer!"

******

Spike eyes jerked open when a pair of red manicured fingers snapped in front of his face. Strangely enough, he was already standing like he'd been propped up. Shaking his muscles loose, he relaxed his stance and glared at the demon bitch smirking at him from a few feet away.

"Wakey wakey, babe. It's time to start the game."

Spike growled, bunching his muscles to attack her but found himself frozen in place.

The lady's red eyes sizzled as she tsk-tsked with her hands. "Nuh uh, no attacking me. I _really_ don't like violence. I'm more about the love, honey. The passionate, can't-live-without-it love."

"All about the love, eh?" Spike drawled, fighting the urge to groan at the oncoming hangover as he began to forcibly sober up.

"Sure. Didn't I just say that? You know, I really hate having to repeat myself, so can we save the droll mockery and sarcasm for another time?" She clapped her hands and three more spotlights shone down from above. "Besides, you've got enough on your plate as it is." She pointed at the three women standing behind Spike, all frozen in motion like someone had pushed "pause" on their remote. Grasping Spike gently by the shoulders, she turned him to face the ladies before leaning in to nip gently at his earlobe. "Ready to play?" she purred huskily, dancing back to laugh as his enraged expression turned to shock.

"Buffy?" Spike shook his head, blinking rapidly. "Buffys?"

The lady in red grinned, letting loose a short giggle. "So what do you think? Looks like fun, right?"

"What the hell is goin' on?!" Spike snarled.

"Ooooh temper. Relax, you're going to need to keep your wits about you, sweetie." She shrugged. "If you want to save the girl, that is. The woman you claim to love with all your undead heart." She poked him in the chest. "You _do_ love her, don't you?"

"'Course I love her, you trampy whorish bitch."

Her eyes flashed red in rage just as the fires below exploded up to shoot past Spike and all three Buffy's across the abyss. Lady in red took a deep breath and closed her eyes, letting the fires calm both inside and without. Sighing, she looked at Spike in disappointment. "Oh, William. I expected more from you. Name calling? Especially calling a woman _that_. I thought you'd moved past it," she chastened.

Chagrined, Spike rambled, "Sorry I …wait, not sorry! Just 'cause you're one grape shy of a fruit basket doesn't meant I have to play nice."

She raised an eyebrow. "How about you play nice because you don't have a choice? Now watch your mouth and listen up. Rule numero uno – love is on the line. One of those Buffys is the real Buffy and you have to figure out which one is her. The catch? You pick wrong and they all die a fiery death. I'm sure you remember how that felt, right sweetie?" She smirked. "Oh, and they can't see me or each other. Only you. They have no idea what's going on and they're probably scared out of their minds." She snapped her fingers and a remote control appeared which she handed over to Spike. "Here – just point and click to start playing. They've been in a holding pattern ever since they first saw you." Winking, she pinched Spike's cheeks mockingly. "Have fun!"

And then she was gone. Spike stared at where Ms. Skanks-a-lot had vanished and turned to frown at the remote control in his hand. Looking at the three Buffys uncertainly, he pointed the remote control at the one on the left and hit "play". She immediately jumped into motion, waving her hands at him and moving her lips furiously yet no sound came out. Huh. Raising his eyebrows, he hit the "mute" button.

"…face the Slayer!" she yelled.

Spike's head rolled back, wide-eyed. "Um…Buffy? That you?"

"Duh, what are you stupid or something?"

He looked down at the remote as if it were a magic eight ball that could give him all the answers he needed. As for her question, he had a feeling all signs pointed to yes.


	3. Chapter 3

"Right. Stupid," he mumbled to himself. Raising his voice, he asked, "Love, you remember that time we were engaged?"

Buffy looked shocked for a moment before comically screwing up her face in disgust. "Engaged? I'm going to need loads more therapy to repress those memories."

Okay, so she was disgusted by the fact she'd been engaged to him. Well, yeah that kinda played true. But why act surprised about it? Unless she really had been working that hard to repress the memory. "Buffy, remember the time you told me – "

"Are you seriously gonna talk me to death? Way to wuss out." Buffy scoffed then gestured for him to come to her. "If you'd actually hop on over so we could get to the fighting part of this, that'd be great. 'Cause I'm so ready to kick…your…ass." She crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down.

Spike squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head slightly, before returning to stare at this Buffy up and down. She certainly had the bitchy, holier-than-thou attitude down. And her wanting to knock him around felt like slipping into his pair of favorite jeans. Which he was technically already wearing, but the metaphor still stood. Something was off though. He couldn't put his finger on it, but…

"Hey! Hello! Slayer here. Are we gonna fight?" She tossed her hands up in frustration.

Spike rolled his eyes and hit the "mute" button. Well, she certainly knew how to aggravate him like Buffy. Hmm. This remote thing was pretty handy actually. Turning, he pointed the remote at the Buffy on the far right and hit "play".

This Buffy blinked and shook her perfect shampoo-commercial hair before giving him a mega-watt smile. "Spike," she said happily. "Oh I've missed you so much ever since you died." She paused for a second, blinked once, and then dropped her face into a frown. "Your untimely death made me sad. I cried many tears and felt like I could tell no one about the pain I was feeling. My grief over losing you knows no words and cannot be adequately expressed." She looked at Spike expectantly. When he failed to respond, she continued, "You're also the most fantastic lover I've ever known and I missed having sex with you… _- error - *beep* _ I mean, I missed _making love_ with you." Buffy grinned, pleased with herself.

Spike eyed Buffy suspiciously, tilting his head to look at her from every angle. "Buffy? You feel like bossing me around a bit? At all?"

"Would you like me to boss you around? I can do that!" she assured him eagerly.

"Huh, I thought the Bot was tossed for scrap metal," Spike murmured.

Buffy tilted her head, listening to his words carefully. "Toss? Toss what? Do you mean you want me to toss salad? Oh, I've read about those. It means you are gay." She pouted. "But…I don't understand. While you do have certain behaviors that would comply with expected tropes of homosexuality, I find you are far too good at servicing the female body to be gay." Her eyes lit up with excitement. "Oh! Are you bisexual?"

"Leave off it, pet. You're just confusing yourself. Never been one for labels myself."

Buffy nodded. "Yes, these labels are confusing. They have contradictory qualifications and confusing definitions. But without labels how will a person know who it's appropriate to have sex and/or make love with?"

Spike chuckled. "Best to go with what you're feeling." He grinned. "Bye, love. Good to see you again." He raised the remote and hit "pause". Turning toward the last Buffy standing in the center of the trio, he hit the "play" button and waited.

This Buffy swallowed slowly before saying softly, "Spike." A faint smile teased the curve of her lips and she blinked furiously for a moment, almost like she was blinking back tears. "Hey."

Spike nodded at this Buffy solemnly, feeling the sadness in her eyes pull at his heart. "Buffy?" he asked in confusion.

Buffy stepped forward, reaching for him only to stop at the edge of the stone platform she stood on. "It's gonna be okay, Spike. I promise. We're gonna get out of here." She looked around the black space surrounding them and the fire below. "We've just got to…I dunno. Do you know anything about this place we're trapped in?"

Spike shrugged. "Yeah, a bit. The only way out is if I save the girl. The right girl."

"Right girl? So where is this girl?"

Spike laughed. "Good question, love."

Buffy stared at him for a moment then smiled fondly. "So not so much with the dire, huh? Flaming hellfires aside."

Spike tilted his head unconsciously. "No, not so much. Least, not the way you'd think."

"Spike."

"Hmm?"

Buffy shook her head. "Nothing. I just felt like saying it." She smiled, eyes brimming with emotion. "Spike," she said softly.

Spike's body quivered and he took a step back, looking away from this Buffy. He was beginning to feel like the bitch in red was pulling a fast one on him. Putting him in a room with all fake Buffys just to torment him. This one felt too good to be true. It was a trick. It had to be.

He growled, turning to glare at Buffy. "You're not fooling me, pet. I've got your number. So get ready to say nitey-nite."

As he began to raise the remote, Buffy raised both hands, entreating, "Spike – stop!"

Spike arm lowered itself almost against his will. He shook his head and began to raise the remote again.

"Spike! Don't do whatever you're about to do. I can tell that way lies badness. Okay, listen to me. Please, just listen. Or better yet, talk to me. I'll listen," she promised desperately.

"You're a lie. That's what you are. And you don't even know it. Just like the Bot doesn't know she's a robot. Thinks she's a real person. I'm supposed to pick between you three, but you're all wrong. None of you are her. The Bot's well, the Bot. And that first Buffy is just…off, like a caricature of the real her. And you, you're too perfect. Too much of everything I want but I can't have." He sighed brokenly. "You're the worst of all of them. Because even though I know it's not real, I still want to say yes."

Buffy blinked back a sudden rush of tears, her throat choking off her words. She let out a little sob and wiped her face. "Say yes," she urged, nodding. "Just say yes." She scowled angrily at the space separating them as she reached out one hand. "I love you. I know I didn't say it soon enough, but…"

"No!" Not that. That lie was the one he couldn't stand to swallow. He raised the remote angrily only to freeze with his finger over the "pause" button, his entire body shaking.

"Spike…" Buffy closed her eyes, clenching her fist against her abdomen. She began to whisper desperately, her forehead screwed up in concentration. "Love isn't brains. It's blood. Blood screaming inside you to work its will." She opened her eyes, suddenly calm and assured. "It's not about what you think or what you know. It's about what you feel. What you believe." She unclenched her fist, opening her hand to reach out again. "I believe in you, Spike. Do you believe in me?" She tried to smile, but her mouth fell open as she panted for a breath. "Please," she whispered.

Spike's hand fell to his side as he stared at Buffy. He snarled suddenly at the remote control and tossed it into the flames below. Locking eyes with her again, he breathed deeply, shoulders straightening as he stepped towards her. "Buffy." His mouth crinkled and he nodded in unison with her. "Slayer."

The space between them melted away, as if it the rocks were an illusion and the fires below were no more. Spike cupped her cheek softly, his lips permanently stuck in a tiny, awed smile. She leaned into his touch, grasping his arm gently and caressing the inside of his wrist with her thumbs. "You happy to see me, love?"

"I'm always happy to see you."

"Exactly how happy are you?"

Buffy laughed and pulled him down to her, kissing him fiercely till she had to come up for air. "That happy. Is that enough for you?" She grinned when Spike nodded. "Now how about we get out of here? I'm not leaving you stuck in hell. We're finding a loophole."

Spike laughed. "About that actually, see we're not in he – "

The world shifted abruptly and Spike nearly bit his tongue as he found himself sitting at the swanky bar, clutching his empty shot glass and staring into eyes as black as…well, hell.

The lady in red sipped her martini, smiling behind the glass. "So did you have fun?"

Spike shuddered at the realization it was all a game, clutching his glass so tightly that it shattered in his hand. He grunted, clenching his fist even tighter and watching his blood ooze onto the bartop. "Fun?" he croaked hoarsely.

The lady in red sighed sadly and set her drink on the bar. She reached over and gently laid her hand atop Spike's, turning his palm to pull out the shards of glass. A surge of heat ran from her hand to his and he jerked reflexively, only to stare in wonder as she pulled away and his hand was left unmarred. "What kind of demon are you?"

"Whoever said I was a demon?" she smiled, eyes glinting with mischief.

"Well, you granted a wish. Just assumed you were a vengeance of some sort."

"No," she denied softly, grinning. "Remember I told you, I'm all about the love. And I didn't grant a wish."

Spike shook his head, confused. "Then what was all that? All that magical bananza crap? It was all an illusion, right?"

"No, it was real. All of it. And you did make a wish. I just didn't have to do anything to make it come true."

Spike scoffed. "I don't even know what I wished for, so how could it have already come true?"

She raised her hand to push a loose curl back from his forehead, smiling fondly. "Dear boy," she said softly, eyes dark and ancient. "You wished she'd meant it. But she already did."

"So why all the fuss? You went to a lot of trouble to grant a wish that didn't need granting."

"It wasn't about the wish. It was about you." Drawing her index finger within the small pool of blood on the bar, she drew a heart which began to shimmer and rise up with the lift of her hand. She twirled her finger and the heart spun in circles in the air. "Love is the most fragile, rare and powerful creation in the world. Because it takes two hearts – " the heart spinning began to look like two hearts spinning into each other " – and merges them into one. It is the greatest struggle to bring the hearts together and every force in existence works to pull them apart." The two hearts began to turn around each other in an ever widening orbit. "And only through a perfect trust can they become one." She raised her hands and gently pushed the hearts closer together but they resisted and continued their wild orbit. "It cannot be forced or willed or compelled. Two becoming one is only possible through faith. Belief. And once found, truly found in each other, that love transcends all other experiences and emotions." The two hearts slowly merged and began to shine a bright white light. "Effulgent." She smiled at Spike fondly. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

"I did." He agreed by rote, transfixed.

"You just forgot for a moment."

Shaking his head, he denied, "Felt longer than a moment."

"I was happy to remind you, William. After all, you're one of mine."

"Who are you?"

She smiled. "Who? That's a step up from what, certainly. I go by many names. What would you call me?"

"Amara. Loved." He looked at her curiously. "You're really not a demon, are you?"

"No. I'm something else." Looking at the clock hanging on the wall, she tapped him gently on the shoulder. "It's time to go now. You don't want to be late."

"I already missed my ship."

Grinning, she pushed him off his stool. "I have a feeling something might have caused a delay."

Spike started towards the door and then stopped abruptly, chuckling so hard that he bent over and wiped tears from his eyes. He looked over his shoulder, grinning, "I've always said I was love's bitch. Guess what that makes you?"

She winked. "The bitch."

******

Buffy woke up with a gasp, turning to look at Spike lying asleep on the cot. The basement was cold and damp, but somehow it felt like the safest place in the entire house. She grasped at the strange threads of the dream that had disturbed her sleep, but they'd already begun to slip away. Standing up, she walked over to the basement window and looked out at the moonlight with arms crossed. The dream had faded nigh completely save for two revelations. She knew with a certainty that could not be questioned that they would win the battle tomorrow over the Hellmouth. The First would be defeated. She just knew it. And second, she loved Spike. This revelation she accepted even more easily than the first because it was something she'd already known, deep down inside her heart. Except now wasn't the time for love, it was the time for her to be battle-ready. There'd be time enough for love in the future. Now was the time to save the world.


End file.
